Carl, Feral, and the office lady stood frozen, their gazes locked on Hubertus as if he had just rewritten the laws of the Abyss. The air was still thick with the remnants of the Overlord’s presence, an oppressive hum that clung to the ruined cathedral like cobwebs.

“Why did the Overlord work through you?” Carl finally asked, his fiery horns flickering faintly, betraying his unease.

Hubertus chuckled, a low, deliberate sound that seemed to mock the question. “I told you about Flame Heaven, didn’t I?”

With a fluid motion, he shifted back into his human form, the dark aura dimming but never quite disappearing. He raised his hand, and there it was—the ring glinting faintly on his finger, its surface a swirling mass of molten amber and shadow.

“A Seal of the Eternal?!” Carl exclaimed, his demonic face contorting in disbelief.

Hubertus nodded slowly, savoring the moment. “Yes,” he said, his voice calm, almost smug. “The Overlord isn’t just some ancient, isolated being. His connections are vast—far-reaching in ways you can’t even begin to comprehend.”

“Flame Heaven,” Carl muttered, the name dripping from his lips like molten lava. It was less a question and more an acknowledgment of something far greater than himself.

“What’s Flame Heaven?” Feral interjected, his worm-ridden face twitching with curiosity and frustration. “I’ve heard whispers, but nothing concrete.”

Hubertus turned to him, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Ah, Flame Heaven,” he began, his tone taking on the cadence of a storyteller unraveling a dark fable. “To make it simple for you, Feral, let’s just say it’s a force—one that operates outside the confines of the Abyss. A place, a power, an entity… it’s all of these and none of them. And my ties to it…” He paused, letting the weight of his words hang in the air, “go deeper than anyone can imagine.”

The room fell into a tense silence. Even the office lady, who had been inspecting her claws with feigned disinterest, now stared at Hubertus with something approaching respect—or fear.

Carl’s fiery eyes narrowed. “You mean to say the Overlord is tied to the Flame Heaven?”

“Not just tied,” Hubertus said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “The Overlord is connected—a conduit, a bridge. And through him, I…” He held up his hand again, the Seal of the Eternal catching the dim light, “am part of that connection.”

Feral’s face contorted, the worms beneath his skin writhing in agitation. “You’re bluffing,” he spat. “No way a newbie like you could hold something that ties you to—”

Hubertus stepped closer, his human form shrinking the distance between them in a way that made Feral flinch. “Try me,” he said, his voice as cold as the Abyss itself.

Carl raised a clawed hand, stepping between them. “Enough,” he said, his tone laced with a rare note of command. He turned to Hubertus, his fiery eyes blazing with something akin to admiration. “You’ve proven yourself, Hubertus van Schnecken. But let me warn you—Flame Heaven is not just a power to wield. It’s a force to be reckoned with. If you’re tied to it, as you claim, it’s only a matter of time before they come calling.”

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

Hubertus smirked. “Let them. I’ve faced demons, priests, and my own grave. What’s one more challenge?”

The office lady clapped her hands together, breaking the heavy silence. “Well, isn’t this a dramatic little standoff,” she said, her melodic voice cutting through the tension. “If we’re done with the pissing contest, perhaps we should focus on what’s next?”

Feral grumbled something under his breath, but Carl nodded. “She’s right. We still need to finish integrating you, Hubertus. The Overlord’s favor is one thing. Surviving in this cesspool of power-hungry demons is another.”

Hubertus nodded, his grin widening. “Then let’s get to it. I’ve got a lot more to prove.”

Before moving forward, it was time to claim the spoils of his victory. Hubertus approached the pile of ash where the Order Demon had been reduced to nothingness. The faint glow of the embers still shimmered faintly in the dark.

“Carl,” Hubertus said, his voice steady, “would you be so kind as to form another Stone of Luferia?”

Carl raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest. With a wave of his clawed hand, the ashes began to stir, rising into the air like a swirling storm. The fragments shimmered and spun faster, condensing under an unseen force until they compressed into a gleaming black diamond. Its surface pulsed faintly with an inner light, a living ember contained within.

The Stone of Luferia rested in Carl’s outstretched hand, its energy humming with palpable power. “Here,” Carl said, his tone weighty. “But understand what you’re holding.”

Hubertus took the stone, its cold surface warming instantly in his palm. He could feel it—not just as a physical object, but as a force that seemed to resonate with his very essence.

“A Stone of Luferia,” Hubertus murmured. “The power to transform.”

“And an ingredient for the elixir of transmorph,” Carl added, his voice grave, “which will let the user transform into one form permanently, overriding its previous form. Just like that salesman who wanted to transform into Michael Jackson.” He punctuated the remark with a sly wink.

Hubertus raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “Why would anyone go through the trouble of creating an elixir of transmorph when they could simply consume the stone to change their form into anything they wish?”

Carl tilted his head, his fiery eyes narrowing with amusement. “Because consuming the stone alone comes with limitations,” he explained, his voice taking on a teacherly tone. “Sure, it grants transformation, but it leaves a glaring weakness—the bearer remains vulnerable to even the simplest binding runes. Any half-decent sorcerer could trap you like an insect in a jar. However…” He paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in, “when consumed after having eaten a Stone, the elixir nullifies basic binding runes entirely, burning them away like cobwebs in a wildfire. It grants the wielder a transformation that is not just powerful but unshackled. No mere rune can bind them.”

Hubertus’ eyes gleamed with newfound interest. “Unshackled,” he repeated, the word rolling off his tongue like a promise.

Carl nodded, leaning slightly closer, his voice dipping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Only a properly constructed sorcerer’s triangle could hold you afterward. But then again… you already know that, don’t you? Since you’ve bound me with one.”

Hubertus smiled slowly, his gaze flickering to the glowing lines of the sorcerer’s triangle etched into the floor. “Of course,” he said, his voice smooth and deliberate. “I always do my research.”

Carl’s smirk widened, but there was a begrudging respect in his fiery eyes. “Then you understand the value of what you’re holding. The elixir doesn’t just grant power—it frees you from the vulnerabilities that come with the stone alone.”

Hubertus turned the stone in his hand, its surface glinting with an otherworldly light. “The power to transform without limits,” he murmured, a flicker of ambition dancing in his expression. “It’s no wonder people will kill for this.”

Carl’s expression darkened slightly. “Kill? They’d sell their souls for just a sip.”

Hubertus chuckled, low and deliberate. “Then it seems I’ve already got the better deal.”